A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
The chimera is sitting on the floor in the main room, eating what looks like the tail of a displacer beast
Aovin is heavily drunk despite having only drinken half an ale
-open slot-
Xan was in the library. He was messing with a polished wooden yew lyre. He plucked at the strings gently and stared at the ceiling.
Cold is watching over Aovin, sipping rose tea.
Paladis is outside, sparring with an animated wooden training dummy.
After some time, the chimera enters the library, seeming drawn by the music
"Hye cold..... you have like..... 6 hands." Aovin says in a half mumble as he leans on them
Xan looks over at him and narrows his eyes. He is in a form that looks like he came right of a greek story. He sits up and rolls his eyes, leaning on his hand "What do you want?"
Cold pats his head "Little brother of mine, you are drunken"
"Hm, you look funny." He replys, sitting down nearby, "I just heard the sounds and decided to check them out."
"Your drunkener." He replys with a hiccup
He stares at the Chimera for a moment before it melts away into a his real form (PFP above). "There, the real me" His skin is peppered with bullet holes.
Cold narrows his eyes and places and hand on his head and casts 'Lesser restoration"
"You are full of atleast one more hole than usual."
"Ugh...." Aovin murmers, looking like he's going to throw up, but no longer drunk
Xan rolls his eyes "did you come in here to bother me?"
Cold smiles behind his mask "You ok?"
"Sorta yep."
"I feel like i tripped down stairs, but yeah"
Xan rolls his eyes and lies on the couch again, trying to ignore the chimera.
cold chuckles a bit "why was i expecting worse?"
They just keep watching them
"Cause i'm a light-weight"
""Take your eyes off me" he said and rolls over to his side.
"Of course you are" he said with another chuckle
"Last i checked they were still in my head."
"I don't drink a lot, its hell!" He sighs
"You take things to literally" he says and rolls his eyes.
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
Vivian walks over, "I can heal him." She smiles
Paladis grumbles "Didn't i tell you to stay away from me kid?"
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
"Don't worry" he said and chuckled "I can do that"
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
Vivian walks over, "I can heal him." She smiles
Paladis grumbles "Didn't i tell you to stay away from me kid?"
The man is walking away. He looks a bit happier now that he's potentially ruined someone's life, regardless of how little he may have actually done to them.
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
Vivian walks over, "I can heal him." She smiles
Paladis grumbles "Didn't i tell you to stay away from me kid?"
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
Vivian walks over, "I can heal him." She smiles
Paladis grumbles "Didn't i tell you to stay away from me kid?"
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
The chimera is sitting on the floor in the main room, eating what looks like the tail of a displacer beast
Aovin is heavily drunk despite having only drinken half an ale
-open slot-
Xan was in the library. He was messing with a polished wooden yew lyre. He plucked at the strings gently and stared at the ceiling.
Cold is watching over Aovin, sipping rose tea.
Paladis is outside, sparring with an animated wooden training dummy.
After some time, the chimera enters the library, seeming drawn by the music
"Hye cold..... you have like..... 6 hands." Aovin says in a half mumble as he leans on them
Xan looks over at him and narrows his eyes. He is in a form that looks like he came right of a greek story. He sits up and rolls his eyes, leaning on his hand "What do you want?"
Cold pats his head "Little brother of mine, you are drunken"
"Hm, you look funny." He replys, sitting down nearby, "I just heard the sounds and decided to check them out."
"Your drunkener." He replys with a hiccup
He stares at the Chimera for a moment before it melts away into a his real form (PFP above). "There, the real me" His skin is peppered with bullet holes.
Cold narrows his eyes and places and hand on his head and casts 'Lesser restoration"
"You are full of atleast one more hole than usual."
"Ugh...." Aovin murmers, looking like he's going to throw up, but no longer drunk
Xan rolls his eyes "did you come in here to bother me?"
Cold smiles behind his mask "You ok?"
"Sorta yep."
"I feel like i tripped down stairs, but yeah"
Xan rolls his eyes and lies on the couch again, trying to ignore the chimera.
cold chuckles a bit "why was i expecting worse?"
They just keep watching them
"Cause i'm a light-weight"
""Take your eyes off me" he said and rolls over to his side.
"Of course you are" he said with another chuckle
"Last i checked they were still in my head."
"I don't drink a lot, its hell!" He sighs
"You take things to literally" he says and rolls his eyes.
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
The chimera is sitting on the floor in the main room, eating what looks like the tail of a displacer beast
Aovin is heavily drunk despite having only drinken half an ale
-open slot-
Xan was in the library. He was messing with a polished wooden yew lyre. He plucked at the strings gently and stared at the ceiling.
Cold is watching over Aovin, sipping rose tea.
Paladis is outside, sparring with an animated wooden training dummy.
After some time, the chimera enters the library, seeming drawn by the music
"Hye cold..... you have like..... 6 hands." Aovin says in a half mumble as he leans on them
Xan looks over at him and narrows his eyes. He is in a form that looks like he came right of a greek story. He sits up and rolls his eyes, leaning on his hand "What do you want?"
Cold pats his head "Little brother of mine, you are drunken"
"Hm, you look funny." He replys, sitting down nearby, "I just heard the sounds and decided to check them out."
"Your drunkener." He replys with a hiccup
He stares at the Chimera for a moment before it melts away into a his real form (PFP above). "There, the real me" His skin is peppered with bullet holes.
Cold narrows his eyes and places and hand on his head and casts 'Lesser restoration"
"You are full of atleast one more hole than usual."
"Ugh...." Aovin murmers, looking like he's going to throw up, but no longer drunk
Xan rolls his eyes "did you come in here to bother me?"
Cold smiles behind his mask "You ok?"
"Sorta yep."
"I feel like i tripped down stairs, but yeah"
Xan rolls his eyes and lies on the couch again, trying to ignore the chimera.
cold chuckles a bit "why was i expecting worse?"
They just keep watching them
"Cause i'm a light-weight"
""Take your eyes off me" he said and rolls over to his side.
"Of course you are" he said with another chuckle
"Last i checked they were still in my head."
"I don't drink a lot, its hell!" He sighs
"You take things to literally" he says and rolls his eyes.
Cold continues to pat his little brother head
"Yes, yes i do." He nods
aovin leans into the pats
"Go away" he says and puts a pillow over his own eyes.
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
Vivian walks over, "I can heal him." She smiles
Paladis grumbles "Didn't i tell you to stay away from me kid?"
Vivian walks over, "I can heal him." She smiles
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
*I feel minorly ignored, sorry ;-;*
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
*Shhhh... [places hand on your face] we can RP if you want, but DON'T MINIMIZE MY CHARACTER'S ONLY SIGNIFICANT POWER, please.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I mean, ya just ignored my first response to the original thing, so....*
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
*I'm so sorry, I 100% didn't see it. I'll respond right now if you want.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"You take things to literally" he says and rolls his eyes.
Cold continues to pat his little brother head
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Paladis grumbles "Didn't i tell you to stay away from me kid?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Don't worry" he said and chuckled "I can do that"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
The man is walking away. He looks a bit happier now that he's potentially ruined someone's life, regardless of how little he may have actually done to them.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Yeah, but i don't care a lot."
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
Kettle is carving jack-o-lanterns in bulk.
The Black Door is open, and the sweet smells of good food and fine wine flow out.
Oswald Grouper is building something on the shoreline.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He grumbles
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Xan is sitting outside.
Adder is napping on the couch.
<Open>
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Yes, yes i do." He nods
aovin leans into the pats
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Go away" he says and puts a pillow over his own eyes.
Cold chuckles "Weirdo"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Exactly. Whats with the tax collector?"
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND